


Fidelity

by tenuous_pteradatyl



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Blackmail, Boss/Employee Relationship, Forced Eye Contact, Forced Masturbation, M/M, Office, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Situational Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:16:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenuous_pteradatyl/pseuds/tenuous_pteradatyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeremy Blaire wants Waylon to prove his loyalty to the corporation by doing some questionable things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fidelity

He had anticipated a lot of things when Jeremy Blaire, had called him to his office, with nothing but a cryptic, and barely legible memo hastily dropped on his desk, by one of his many cronies. But what he hadn’t anticipated was that he would find Blaire behind his desk, a bottle of expensive wine half-gone, and him typing furiously away on his laptop. He had ushered Waylon in with a curt nod and had told him to sit down. He took the seat across from him as Blaire mentioned he would only be a moment, he had a report to finish up. That was 10 minutes ago, he could understand 5 but this was excessive. It seemed to say that his time wasn’t important, and as he sat there Blaire's fingers furiously hitting the keyboard he grew more, and more agitated until he finally spoke up. 

“Sir, is there a reason you called me here? Your memo didn’t really explain much”, he said trying to contain the annoyance building with each second. Blaire stopped, and looked at him for a moment before pushing his laptop away “What do you mean?”, he asked, and Waylon felt confusion briefly before soldiering on. “I asked you why you called me in here sir. Like I said your memo didn’t really say much”.  
“Yes it did”, Blaire answered, “It said I needed you to come to my office.”  
“To do what? Watch you type?”, thought Waylon as Blaire watched him over the top of his computer. Blaire shook his head for a moment as if he were disappointed. “But knowing how you are Mr. Park, I suppose that’s not a good enough reason for you”.  
“What do you mean you know how I am?”, Waylon asked, feeling more confused than when he first walked in.  
Blaire sighed like he was talking to a frustratingly inquisitive child “Are we really going to be continually backtracking through this whole conversation Mr. Park? I had hoped you’d be a little smarter than that"  
“If you would just speak plainly-"  
“I’ve been watching you Park” Blaire answered,”Well not just you to be precise.I make a point of making sure that everyone is working in tandem. That each little drone is doing their part, that everyone is at optimum efficiency. For 5 years the Murkoff Corporation has been the pinnacle of worker’s efficiency. There have been setbacks here, and there but they’ve been easily dealt with, and things have returned to the status quo. Until about 2 weeks ago when you came to us Mr. Park”.

Waylon now realized what was about to happen, he was about to be terminated. He had anticipated feeling upset about it, but all he felt was a budding sense of relief in his chest. These past two weeks had been crap. He had come home every night feeling drained and oddly sick to his stomach. He didn’t know if it was the building itself, or the less than ideal working environment but either way he had always dropped into bed with an overwhelming sense of relief. Lisa had talked to him a few times as he had fallen into bed, his limbs already heavy with impending sleep. “I don’t know honey maybe you should just break the contract now”, she said one night looking down at him with concern. “You don’t look so good”, she added laying her hand on his forehead as if she were checking for signs of fever. He had caught her hand, and kissed it briefly “I’ll be fine”, he had said groggily “It’s only for a few more weeks, and then we can put this whole thing behind us.” 

“I know but I still don’t like it. There’s something weird about that place”, she said crossing her arms across her chest, her brow furrowed in contemplation. “I know”, Waylon answered. “Then why are you working there? You come home every night with this haunted look on your face”, she said pulling down the skin under her eyes, and sporting a gaping mouth. “I do not look like that”, he protested.

“You’re right you’re not nearly as pretty”, she said flipping her hair for emphasis. “Haha”, he said sullenly feigning hurt feelings and rolling away from her. “Don’t pout. I’m just worried about you” she said sliding up next to him, and throwing her arms around him “You come home every day exhausted, and barely able to speak, what’s going on over there?”, she asked. He had lied at the time and said nothing. He didn’t want to worry her any further, and now with this new turn of events, he wouldn’t have to. 

Blaire had continued his speech while Waylon had retreated into his own thoughts. He had even gotten out of his chair to stand behind him as he began to run down his performance in the last weeks, reciting his history as if he had already forgotten it.  
“Yes, you came in Mr. Park under contract as a software engineer, and for awhile everything went well. You kept your head down, you were a good contribution to the team. But then somewhere along the way you started asking questions. You decided that maybe the Murkoff Corporation didn’t deserve your loyalty, and that’s why I called you here Park. You’re here to prove your loyalty to me." 

Waylon wanted to scoff. Really? That was what all this was about? Blaire thought he lacked conviction he assumed that Waylon thought this was just another job. Well wasn’t it? He thought feeling a little baffled. Was he doomed to an existence of never questioning? Always complying? He couldn’t live like that. Maybe at one point, he was willing to just put his head down, and play along with it. But not now. 

“Sir”, he said “I understand what you’re saying, and I think you’re right I’m not cut out for this. I’m not Murkoff material, and since I’m not maybe I should just break the contract now" he said feeling as though a heavy burden was about to be lifted off his shoulders. Blaire looked at him, his gaze almost reptilian in its lack of compassion “What are you babbling on about?" he asked “If i simply wanted to end your contract don’t you think I would have done that weeks ago? No, I’m going to require something else, something to ensure that you won’t leave here, and divulge anything you’ve seen, nothing you’ve heard. I’ll sleep better at night knowing we have an agreement”.

Waylon wanted to groan. A catch, he should’ve known there would be a catch. What he didn’t know though, was how a big catch it was going to be. He didn’t know how Blaire worked, he had managed to keep his personal affairs, and even how he dealt with his employees a complete mystery from the staff. But he did know that Blaire had an air of sadism about him, he always seemed to be at his highest when he was watching some poor employee squirm. His mind darted to a few incredibly unappealing options of how Blaire intended to test his loyalty, and he desperately hoped that there was a slim chance he wouldn’t choose any of them.But Blaire’s next words dashed all hope of civility “Just like I’m sure your dear wife would sleep better at night”. Waylon felt his blood run cold. Oh no, he was not going to go there, was he? He wouldn’t stoop that low, would he? he thought feeling so shaken that he had to make a supreme effort to not fall out of his chair. Blaire paid him no mind, he just continued on “I will agree not to get your family involved if you can effectively prove your loyalty to me”, he said his grin so wide that he could see the whites of his teeth.

“Bastard”, he thought savagely, he should have known better than to think this guy had anything close to common decency. If he knew he could keep his family safe from the repercussions he would have lunged over the table, and punched him in his smug face. But instead, he sat there, his hands balled so tightly into fists that he could feel his fingernails dig into his palm. He ground his teeth, he knew he was going to hate the answer but he had to know “What would you do them?”, he asked.

“Mr. Park”, Blaire said, his voice laced with mock pity “Do you really want to know?”, he asked as he poured himself another glass of wine. No, he didn’t, although he had some ideas, and all of them either ended with his family dead or at the very least heavily scarred and traumatized. He could just leave, terminate the contract now, and put this whole thing behind him. But he knew even if he did, even if he left the state, the Murkoff Corporation would find them, there was no guarantee of his family’s survival unless…”What do I have to do?”, he asked between gritted teeth. 

If at all possible Blaire looked somehow even more smug than before. He eyed Waylon from under lowered eyelids as he sloshed his wine gently in his glass. “Take off your clothes”, he said, his tone was so smooth, and steady it’s as if he asked for this thing all the time. For a moment Waylon thought he probably did, it would be about his speed. Out of all the things he could’ve asked for he had never expected for his boss to ask for something like this. He felt the overwhelming sense of violation creep over him, the hot wave of shame roll over him as his cheeks turned an impossible shade of red. He wanted to ask him again, maybe even beg for some other trial to go through. 

This was too embarrassing, too degrading, but the bastard was looking at him expectantly now, his fingers tapping the desktop in a continuous rhythm that screamed exasperation. Waylon looked to the floor admiring the dirt on the tips of his shoes.  
“I’m waiting Park”, rang out that grating voice, and for a brief stabbing moment Waylon again contemplated lunging over the desk, and taking Blaire out. But instead, he busied himself with unbuttoning his shirt, he thought maybe if he turned around it would lessen some of the discomfort. But just as he began to make his slow turn towards the wall he heard “Face me Park. Look me in the eye”. 

He almost winced, Blaire’s voice seemed intensely harsh amidst the suffocating silence of the office. He stayed facing him, his eyes no longer on the floor but on Blaire. He was eyeing him like a piece of meat, his eyes flicked down to the methodical slowness of his fingers, and Waylon wanted to desperately look away, look to the floor, the wall, anything other than that sickening gaze. But he resisted the urge, instead, he focused on drawing this out as long as possible, on shutting out Blaire’s presence altogether which was proving much more difficult than he had hoped. The incessant tapping of his fingers had sped up until it became a thunderous tattoo in his ears. “Speed it up Park, or I’ll come over there, and do it for you”.

Waylon felt himself close to gagging at the thought, so he sped up the slow pursuit of his buttons, and finally tossed his shirt aside. He had an undershirt underneath, and he made quick work of it. Waylon felt a stab of desperation in his chest. There were only three items of clothing between him, and Blaire seeing him in all his naked glory. With a great deal of hesitation, he slowly brought his hands to rest on the buckle of his belt. He undid it with quaking fingers, and valiantly resisted the horrible temptation to throw it at Blaire. Instead he threw it the floor where it landed unsatisfyingly softly on his pile of clothes. Blaire was watching him even more intently now, his breathing almost audibly labored, his nostrils flared like an agitated horse. 

Waylon’s eyes felt close to shutting out of pure disgust, his restraint on his own anger slowly crumbling as he wriggled out of his jeans like a dying fish on a hook. He worked his pants down his legs feeling increasingly uncomfortable the further down they fell until finally, they pooled at his feet. His boxers were the only thing left, the last shred of dignity between him and his boss, the last barrier between Blaire, and his manhood. 

He was beyond himself with anxiety, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. His fingers felt numb as they tried to grasp the hem, he felt a slow burning rage in his stomach, the uneasy rapid pulse of his heart in his throat, the embarrassment warming his face, the sweat breaking out on his forehead. He’s sure he looked a total mess, and that only seemed to excite Blaire even more because he had all but started drooling. His eyes had darkened, his smirk had grown predatory, his eyes were roaming freely over his nearly naked body 

He had even unbuttoned his shirt letting Waylon get a peek of the hair adorning his chest. Waylon didn't look at him for long, he was almost scared by the predatory gleam in Blaire's eye, had he secretly been wanting to do this? He had answered almost too quickly with what he wanted as if he had known for some time what he wanted Waylon to do. He should’ve known, but at the time he had been too preoccupied with his thoughts about his family’s safety to pick up on any signs and had walked straight into his trap. 

His eyes fell to the floor, to the pile of his clothes at his feet. He knew sooner or later Blaire would command him to take his boxers off so he might as well do it before the instruction came. But his hands were shaking too hard, his fingers wouldn’t obey, his anxiousness was prompting his feet to run for the door. But instead, he stood there, his hands trembling on the hem. “Well Mr. Park”, Blaire said as he remained seated, his fingers only rapping the table now and then”Are you going to do it? Or would you prefer some help with that?" he asked. Waylon once again looked at him, their eyes met and he was tempted to recoil. The look in the other man's was feral, something he had never seen on the executive’s face, and something he hoped he would never see again. He looked ready to vault over the table, and topple Waylon to the ground. 

He felt his mouth dry out, but he spoke, his voice barely audible “No I can do it”, he said, and then with an unearthly burst of speed he slipped his boxers down his legs till they softly fell to the floor. He stepped out of them and kicked them almost savagely to meet with the rest of his clothes. He wanted to scream “There are you happy now? You sick bastard”, but instead he merely raised his arms as if to fully show himself off, and ground out “There was that all?”. He had a sinking feeling that this wasn’t all Blaire had wanted out of their encounter. But he had a small ray of hope that maybe it would all end here, and he could quickly pull his clothes back on, and make his hasty escape out of his office with some shred of his pride still intact. But instead, Blaire looked him up, and down, unashamedly he let his eyes rove over every part of him. Finally, he met his eyes and answered “Of course not" as he leaned back in his chair “I know it’s hard for you, but don’t be stupid Mr. Park. I want far more from you than that”.

He was growing frustrated with the ambiguity “Like what exactly? My firstborn? My heart on a platter?” he blurted out, the first notes of anger slipping into his voice. Blaire actually laughed at that, “Such dramatics. No, I don’t want anything like that. What I require from you is much more simple”. Waylon wanted to scream. “Just tell me what it is already,” he said his yell barely contained. Blaire looked him straight in the eye and gave him the evilest smirk he could muster. “Touch yourself”, he said. 

Waylon felt like he had slapped him across the face “What?”, he all but blurted out, and Blaire frowned before leaning further back in his chair, the wine glass precariously perched on the edge of his desktop. “Touch yourself, masturbate, jerk off, whatever you want to call it Mr. Park. But however you want to put it, I want you to do it, now" he said his tone so stoney that Waylon knew this wasn’t a joke. It was a serious command that he had to comply with, or his family was going to suffer for it. He had no idea how he was to be expected to do it when he had to look at Blaire. He tried to blur the hard edges of Blaire’s face, smooth, and round them out, put Lisa in his place. Imagine her sitting in this stark office, imagine one of their many nights together. 

But it was no use. Blaire’s face wasn’t conducive for feelings of lust, not for him. This bleak room of leased out office space wasn’t a den of love, he couldn’t bring himself to bring thoughts of love and kindness in this harsh place. Lisa wouldn’t materialize here for him no matter how hard he tried. He tried instead to plunge his thoughts into the other night, the sound of her moans, the feel of her supple skin under his hands, the gentle push and pull between them as they writhed together under the sheets. Intertwining, and coming undone from endless caresses, and the exquisite struggle of two bodies wrapped together, with nothing between them but their own heated skin. But even then his discomfort was obvious, he hadn’t even laid his roughly callused fingers on himself yet. He could see Blaire growing impatient, his frown had deepened, and he looked ready to throw Waylon out into the hallway with or without his clothes. So with a burst of speed, his hand shot down, and he began the long arduous task of trying to work himself up. 

It was proving to be hard, he was beyond himself with stress, on the brink of fury, ashamed to even be standing here, his hand working the length of his manhood for what felt like hours before finally, the stimulation was seeming to pay off. He had closed his eyes for a moment and in doing so was finally able to think of something other than Blaire’s sneering face. He thought about Lisa underneath him, his hands that he thought were seldom of use for anything other than typing code planted firmly on her breasts. Rubbing slow circles around her nipples, breathing dirty things into her ear. Waylon wished she was really there with him, that he was in their bedroom right now doing this, instead of standing naked in his boss’ office privy to all his smug smiles, and low moans. 

That was what broke the fantasy for him. It started off a low rumbling thing, and then very soon erupted into a long very loud moan. Waylon’s eyes snapped opened to see Blaire, his no doubt vigorously moving hand obscured by the desk, his eyes shut tight, his shirt totally undone biting his lip as he rubbed himself. Waylon wanted to vomit and run out the door. The sight of Blaire masturbating was making it hard to keep his arousal steadily climbing. A few seconds ago he had been very close to release, now he just felt disgusted, not to mention frustration. He was so close, and now he was just standing there, his limp length in hand watching as Blaire finished himself off. 

He came with something akin to a snarl and sagged back in his seat, his eyes still tightly closed, his hand lying useless in his lap. His eyes fluttered open, and fixed on Waylon, he gave him a slow smirk which made his face flush anew with heat. He wasn’t sure if it was due to embarrassment for himself, or for what he just witnessed but either way, he was inching himself towards his clothes desperately hoping that Blaire would save him any more indignities. But Blaire seemed to have other ideas, he beckoned him over with a slow wave of his hand. When Waylon didn’t comply fast enough he rolled his eyes and barked out “Get over here Park. We’re not done yet”. 

“Of course not”, thought Waylon sullenly as he shuffled forward. Blaire halted him about 3 inches away from his chair, “On your knees”, he said, that infuriating smirk still on his face. “Oh hell no", Waylon thought, his eyes widening, his mind and heart racing. Blaire wasn’t that sick, was he? But then he thought to the last few moments, and he didn’t have to wonder anymore. “Sir”, he said hoarsely, his mouth so dry he felt close to choking “You can’t be serious”. 

“Does it look like I’m joking Park?”, he asked spreading his legs unnecessarily wide so he could get the best view. Waylon jerked away for a moment, this was beyond sick the mere thought made his stomach churn and sent his mind reeling. “I’m waiting Mr. Park, or would you prefer I give you some incentives. Maybe you’d like to see what hospitalities we would show your loving family”. His mind sprang back to the task at hand, in his angst he had almost forgotten the whole reason he was degrading himself this way, he bit back a low growl at the thought of Blaire getting his filthy hands on his family. 

“You see Mr. Park, it’s that right there that I can’t abide by, that lack of respect. That’s why I have to make sure you know your place. Now on your knees”. 

Waylon went grudgingly down, his knees gave an audible crack as he settled himself down on his haunches, and awaited the inevitable. Blaire gave him a devilish grin, as his clean hand came up to cup his face in a mockingly gentle way. “Gorgeous. Now that’s what I like to see everything in its proper place”, he said slowly as Waylon resisted the mad urge to reach out, and punch him in the groin. Instead, he shut his eyes as tightly as he could to try to shut out the situation, his mouth had gone completely dry, his tongue felt like lead, and he could barely bring himself to open his mouth. 

Despite his revulsion he tried to will his mouth open, but before he could he felt a hand tug his hair and a breathy laugh in his ear. “I really had you didn’t I?”, Blaire asked, his mouth once again twisted into a smile “I may trust you a fraction more than I did before, but not enough to handle this”, he said letting go of his hair. Waylon was left with a sense of relief so heady that he was tempted to smile, and scream in elation. But not without another wave of anger coming over him. Blaire had just been toying with him, he had actually let him believe if even for a short time that he was going to have do something even worse to keep his family safe. He dug his fingernails into his palms as a way to stave off the anger, Blaire just smirked at him, seemingly contented with his cruel joke. 

“Just clean this off for me Park, and you can go”, he said holding out his hand, the hand that just moments before had been hurriedly running up, and down his shaft. Waylon looked at in disbelief, sincerely hoping that Blaire was just playing with him again. But it seemed this time he was serious, his smile was steadily fading the longer Waylon sat there staring. He felt sick to his stomach, and he was sure that this feeling wasn’t going to go away anytime soon if he had to do this. “I’m waiting Mr. Park”, he said his tone bored, his hand still outstretched, his fingers wiggling as if to make the task ahead seem more enticing. 

But that just helped to bring him closer to gagging, he could barely look Blaire in the eye as he inched forward, his knees already aching, and sore. He knelt there in front of him, feeling that somehow this was the lowest point of their interaction so far. "Better to get it over with than drag it out”, he thought miserably. He grabbed Blaire’s slim wrist, ignoring the cool metal of his expensive watch, and how it was jabbing his palm. His own hand enclosed tightly around his boss’ wrist, his fingernails digging into the tender skin there. He heard Blaire hiss above him, but ignored it as he mechanically opened his mouth, and jammed all five of Blaire’s fingers in. 

There was a barely audible gasp above him as he closed his eyes, and tried to exclusively breathe through his nose. Really, he wanted to stop breathing altogether, he didn’t want to chance tasting any of Blaire’s cum in his mouth, he didn’t want to think about what was happening, that he had lowered himself to this. It’s for Lisa, it’s for the boys, he thought desperately as he licked Blaire’s fingers clean, swirling his tongue around each one as best he could. Trying to ignore the sounds Blaire was making at his ministrations. 

Blaire’s free hand had slipped once again into his hair, pulling and tugging until Waylon’s scalp hurt. He was hoping this ordeal would be over soon, his knees were killing him, his breathing was coming out in short huffs through his nose, and there was a dull ache in his tongue. Finally, Blaire removed his hand, if somewhat slowly from his mouth, and Waylon coughed, trying to ignore the fact that in his eagerness to finish the chore he had swallowed most of Blaire’s cum. He looked up at the executive with what he could only hope to be a look of pure hatred and not total dejection like he was feeling. Blaire simply sneered at him before walking past him to gather up his clothes “Well thank you, Park. It seems you’re not a total waste after all”, he said as he gently placed Waylon’s clothes in his arms “That will be all. You can get back to work. Oh, and tell the wife, and kids I said hello”.


End file.
